It's All In The Look
by PsychicDreams
Summary: Sherlock's returned from the dead and he's not about to give John up to Mary without a fight. [Prequel to It's All In The Details]


Sherlock tried not to be jealous as he watched John and Mary in his flat. He didn't really have the right to vent his feelings considering he'd only returned recently from the dead and his former flatmate was still angry with him despite two months having passed. There was something galling about seeing that ring on Mary's finger and he wanted so much to rip it off. It wasn't that he didn't like Mary, per se, but his possessive nature didn't lend well.

"Have you found anyone else to room with you?" Mary asked politely from her seat on the sofa.

Sherlock leaned back in his desk chair. "No." How could he find someone else, anyone else, after John? Something about it seemed so wrong and if there was ever a point that he needed rent money… He'd rather take money from _Mycroft_ than allow someone else attempt to live in the space that belonged to John.

Yes, he loved his flatmate and it took all he had to keep his smoldering looks to himself. John was oblivious as he ever was to Sherlock's feelings, and they had been _very_ obvious.

"No one's passed Mycroft's test?" John asked.

"Mycroft's test?"

"You know, being kidnapped and dragged to an empty warehouse, threatened and bribed, that kind of thing."

"Oh that. Apparently not." Not that he'd had anyone close to the door for Mycroft to do that. His phone chimed with a text from Lestrade, asking if he was available for a case. Needing a distraction, he stood and moved to grab his coat. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Mary jab at John's side.

"Got a case?"

"Lestrade just texted me. We'll see."

"Got a minute before you go?"

For John? He'd find all the time in the world, case bedamned. Sherlock finished tying his scarf and turned around. "What is it?"

"I was…hoping…that you'd consent to be…my best man at the wedding."

Something squeezed at his heart and he gritted his teeth just a little. Instead of shock, joy, or any other positive emotion, he felt rage. How dare John ask him to do that when he wanted to be in Mary's shoes? Inwardly he almost slapped himself for the selfish thoughts; John would never, could never, return his feelings. What was the point of pursuing them?

The word caught his attention. Pursuing? Why…_shouldn't_ he try? It was clear John was attached to him. How far did his feelings run? Were they actually deeper than either suspected? No, before he could be best man, he had to know for certain… "I'm afraid I shall have decline at present." John's hopeful face fell, and even Mary stared at him in shock.

"Oh. All right…"

Damn these feelings that made him speak up. "I find it a particularly unpleasant idea, and self-defeating."

"…Self-defeating? What about it is self-defeating?"

He closed his last button on his coat. "Since I fully intend to pursue you in a romantic fashion and steal you from Mary, it would be considered problematic and working against myself should I agree to be best man at your wedding with her."

There was a shocked squeak from John, his eyes wide as saucers at his proclamation. Sherlock couldn't help but wink and smirk a bit as he stalked out of his flat to head to New Scotland Yard.

-0-

John seemed to want to make every effort to avoid him, but Sherlock would not be avoided. He showed up outside his office, brought him case files, and even coffee. It was actually quite adorable to see John's cheeks light up with a blush and their eyes didn't quite meet. He made a point to do things that made the man flustered, like kissing the back of his hand or idly brushing imaginary dirt off his shoulder.

_Come to the flat. SH_, he texted, tapping his foot against the edge of the sofa idly. He'd finished a case and now he was bored senseless again.

The reply came ten minutes later and he could almost hear the hesitation in his typed words. _Okay. When? JW_

_Now. SH_

John argued with him about the time, but Sherlock knew that he would give in. He always did. Accounting for traveling time as he did, it took John only ten minutes to arrive. Sherlock had left the doors unlocked as he always did; he had never locked the doors behind him; that had always been John's doing. It wasn't that he objected to it, but that Sherlock honestly never thought about it. John eyed the open apartment door with disapproval and stepped in, crossing his arms and glaring at the man lounging on the sofa in his robe and pajamas.

"What?"

"Bored."

"You brought me here because you're bored?"

"Partly." He watched that flush of red go up John's cheeks a little, but the soldier only squared his shoulders, closed the door, and came further into the room to sit in a nearby chair.

"Sherlock, we've got to talk about this. I thought you were married to your work."

"I'd rather marry you."

John's lips quirked in a smile of sorts. "Going to get a divorce then?"

"From my work? Never. You're entirely avoiding the point, however, that the term was not meant _literally_."

"I know what you meant, Sherlock, but…you've never…"

"I made it clear for quite a long while, but you just didn't notice. I suppose this is my fault for not just taking you and instead waited around for you to become aware of it." Before John could respond with outrage, he abruptly sat up, bracing his arms on his knees and staring intently at his partner. "We belong together, John, and you know it."

"You're lucky you hadn't attempted to _take_ anything or I might have broken your arm," the doctor hissed, standing.

Sherlock followed him and deliberately spun him, grabbing both wrists and pinning them above the man's head against the closed door. There was a flash in the man's eyes at the perceived danger, just as he suspected. "Are you really going to use the phrasing as an excuse?" he whispered. "You know what I meant."

"Sherlock…let me go."

He leaned in, letting his lips brush against John's ears. "I can give you what you want, John. The danger, the adrenaline, all mixed with affection and love. It's what you want, what you need, and Mary can't provide it." His lips slowly eased over the man's cheek and toward his lips, smirking as he knew the reason that John had shaved his mustache had been because of him. There was the softest of kisses and he listened for the intake of breath. When he heard it, he swooped in, easing his tongue in between parted lips.

There was a sound that was hard to classify from John, but absolutely delightful and Sherlock saved it away in his mind palace to deconstruct later. It had a desperate, begging edge to it and that sent a shiver down his spine. John, begging for something… He brought both of John's wrists into one of his hands so his other could dive into his hair. He tilted the doctor's head just so and then suddenly, as they aligned perfectly, his partner was kissing back with a fervor.

It was as if John had been holding back this whole time and Sherlock delighted in it, pouring his feelings into what their lips were doing. No amount of cocaine or any other drug had ever given him the kind of high that John was right then. Trusting John to keep his head in the right place, his hand left those strands of hair to grab tightly onto his rear. As he pulled their hips to meet, his arousal met an answering hardness and one leg seemed to automatically wrap around his. John was lost in the sensations and Sherlock had him. He had him in his arms. John…was _his_ again, more than ever before.

Despite prolonging it, their lips had to break apart eventually and Sherlock did so with great reluctance. John was looking particularly ravishing and he wanted nothing more than to show the man just what _else_ he could do with his mouth besides talking, but sense was coming to his partner's eyes. So he waited, watching as the guilt began to form.

"I've made my feelings clear, John," he whispered, gentling his hold. He released John's wrists only to pull him into a hug, something he had never done before, but suddenly wanted to do. "What else do I need to say?"

"Nothing." John's voice sounded a little hoarse as he hugged back tightly before he eased out of the hug. "I just…give me some time to think, Sherlock. Next time…next time I come here, you'll have an answer." There was a faint smile thrown his way. "I promise I won't leave you hanging."

Sherlock nodded. He trusted John and if John said that he would give him his answer in a few days, then he would get an answer. So he forced himself to step back and watched as John left the apartment.

-0-

He took on two cases at once in the next four days because just one wouldn't give him a distraction that he needed to wait. Lestrade yelled at him when he'd almost been drowned because of one of them, but he dismissed the rant even before it formed. He hadn't heard at all from John and it was all he could do to keep from pacing the floors.

Sherlock heard it even over the shower, the sound of the door opening and closing. Not caring about being naked and wet, he dove out of the bathroom, trailing water toward the front door. John was there…with a bag in his hand. He was staring about the room before dropping what he carried onto the sofa. "My room still available?" he asked quietly.

"No, but mine is," he growled, a feeling of delight welling through him.

John turned, but whatever he was going to say turned into a yelp. "Sherlock! What are you doing—the floor is wet—you left the shower running?!"

Sherlock didn't care, and instead stalked up. He yanked his partner into his nude body, getting John's clothes wet in the process, and latching their lips together. That lovely desperate sound he'd memorized before came again and then they were kissing like fiends. Sherlock shifted, lifting John and making him sit on the table, not caring that it knocked over a bag of yeast he'd been experimenting with. "John," he whispered, fingers quickly heading to unbutton his jeans.

"Shower," John muttered distractedly, hands running along Sherlock's bare shoulders. "God, you're way too sexy when you're wet." He smirked like a predator and dove his hand into his partner's underwear, gripping the evidence of his arousal. Before he could pursue doing anything with it, however, John's hand came down and gripped his wrist, forcing him to still. "Sherlock, just…one thing first."

"What?"

"…I love you and I…broke things off with Mary. You've…always meant more than the world to me."

Sherlock stared at him. Only his John would stop him right then in such a position just to tell him what he already knew. As if the detective hadn't known all that the moment he walked in the door! Yet he found himself smiling indulgently. "I know," he whispered. "Just like I know you're ready to _beg_ for me to bend you over."

"Sherlock! Don't…do deductions right now! Or in fact, _ever_ when we're about to have sex!"

"Why not?" John colored and he couldn't help an evil smirk. "Oh, I see. You're afraid that if I do that, you'll get trained to be hard when I do deductions." Sherlock leaned in. "How delightful. You're not as bothered about this as you want me to think, and I, in fact, like the idea of you getting turned on every time I'm speaking."

"Sherlock, please…"

"And I will do it for the rest of your life." He lightly rubbed up and down John's arousal, hearing the delighted gasp. "John?"

"Nngh?"

"Will you marry me?"

John's eyes smoldered at him and he leaned in to kiss him lightly, whispering, "Only if you turn off the shower and stop wasting water."

Sherlock laughed.


End file.
